


put this day back on replay

by cjmasim



Series: need you like cake on my birthday [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Baking, Birthday Cake, Birthday Fluff, Cooking, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 14:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18967297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmasim/pseuds/cjmasim
Summary: "What is this?" Pasta asks, and Jake thinks he's probably smiling. Hopefully.Charlie's not much of a morning person, so Jake can't quite make out his mumbling, but he's pretty sure he hears the word "surprise" in there somewhere."A pasta cake?" He's definitely laughing now, and there's a pause. Jake imagines that they're doing something cute and romantic, like kissing. "Won't it make me a cannibal to eat?"





	put this day back on replay

**Author's Note:**

> me: yeah i'm going to post this fic on pasta's birthday just like the others in this series  
> me: posts it at 10:30 pm EST
> 
> Anyway, I've had this planned since I wrote the first installment in October, so it's great to finally get it out there! Pasta's birthday is so close to mine that I definitely felt the birthday spirit more while writing this one than the others, so that's probably a good thing. Even though this fic doesn't focus as much on the actual cake as the others. 
> 
> This would probably be best to read if you've already read the previous two fics, but if you don't want to, just know that the first features Charlie and Pasta botching a Taylor Swift cake for Jake's birthday while the second features Jake and Pasta doing slightly better at a bonafide stallion cake for Charlie. 
> 
> The title comes from Truly Madly Deeply by One Direction.
> 
> Obviously, if you or someone you know is featured in this fic, it's not for you. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Jake has never pretended he knows how to cook. There are some recipes he's mastered, but none are more complicated than putting whipped cream on a no-bake Oreo cake made from a box, and even with those, he has some trouble keeping up with the directions. He's also capable of making cereal, peanut butter sandwiches, and canned soup, but that's about it. The last time he tried to boil water, he missed practice with a mysterious upper body injury - he really, really can't cook.

Well, okay, maybe that's a lie. There is the whole Chef DeBrusk thing, after all, but that's just for the cameras. He's pretty sure they only picked him to film those videos because he's charismatic. He told the media people that he can't cook; it was their choice to disregard that. He only went along with it because they promised they'd make the recipes and only have him do a few easy things for the cameras.

And yet, here he is, standing in the kitchen with Charlie at midnight trying to follow the most complicated recipe he's ever laid eyes on. Luckily, Charlie's willing to do most of the work.

"Come on, bro, are you sure he's even going to like this?"

 Charlie sighs. "We've already discussed this, Jake. It's a perfect pregame meal; of course he will."

"But it's not-"

"I know it's not sweet, or traditional," Charlie says. "His mom is here and she said she has that handled."

"Okay," Jake says. He was going to say that they don't have a game that day, so there's no need for a pregame meal, but he doesn't. Charlie should know that. Resigned to his fate, Jake turns back to the instructions. "So, uh, what exactly is cooking spray?"

Charlie sets down the carton of eggs and stops. "Seriously?"

Jake shrugs.

"Fine," Charlie sighs. "You can whisk the ingredients; I'll do the sautéing."

"What does that mean?" 

Charlie sets down the eggs and walks over to Jake, stopping once they're so close Jake could rest his head on his shoulder. He doesn't, because Charlie is reading the directions and telling him something that sounds important. Jake isn't really listening, though - he's too distracted by the feeling of Charlie's shoulder against his.

"You got that, right?" Charlie asks.

"Yeah, of course," Jake lies, then decides that that's probably not a good idea. He doesn't want to be responsible for messing up the cake. "Uh, wait, what?"

Charlie rolls his eyes. "Dude, I just told you all this. You're listening, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening," Jake says. This time, he means it.

"Okay. You have to crack the eggs, whisk them, which is basically like stirring, then throw in all these ingredients - the list with the ricotta and parmesan and stuff, not the other one. Just mix everything together for a while, and I'll tell you when the consistency is right. When it's right, I'll add the sausage and spaghetti that I’m making, and then we'll start putting it all together," Charlie explains. "Now, tell me what you're doing so I know you understand."

Jake groans, but he can't fault Charlie for not trusting him to remember all that. "I have to mix the eggs, then the other stuff, then wait for you?"

"Yeah!" Charlie grins and pecks him on the cheek. "Good enough, now get to work."

Jake obliges. It goes pretty well, he thinks, and Charlie seems proud of him. He takes over from there, and Jake watches as he spoons the mixture into the pan, tops it with a can of spaghetti sauce, puts it in the oven, and sets the timer.

"So, what do you want to do for fifty minutes?" Charlie asks.

Jake shrugs. Pasta's sleeping, so they can't do anything indoors that would make noise, but there's nothing stopping them from going out on the balcony. He suggests as much, and they go out. It's a little chilly, but nothing like Edmonton; Charlie grabs a hoodie, but to Jake, it's the perfect night.

"It's too bad we're not going to eat the cake while it's hot," Jake muses.

Charlie blinks slowly, realization dawning on his face. "Oh no."

"We can heat it up," Jake reassures him. He thought the fact that spaghetti cake is best served hot would be obvious, but apparently it hadn't occurred to Charlie. Oops. "Really, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Oh my God," Charlie says, putting a hand over his face. Jake thinks he's laughing at himself, but it's hard to tell with the hand in the way. "I can't believe I forgot about that. I just kept thinking it's a cake, but it's not a cake, it's a spaghetti cake, I - wow."

Jake laughs. "It is a cake, though!"

"Is it really? Is spaghetti cake really going to be good cold?"

"Yeah, of course," Jake says. He thinks about it, and yeah, okay, maybe that was a lie. "Well. No. But we can heat it up and have it for dinner, with his mom's cake for dessert. Problem solved."

Charlie sighs. "That's assuming the cake even comes out okay. Ours, that is."

"Come on man, you did everything right," Jake says. 

"When Pasta and I made your cake we didn't notice the timer going off because we were trying not to wake you up," Charlie says. "Burnt it a little too. Maybe we should go inside?"

"You just don't want to admit you're cold," Jake teases.

Charlie scoffs. "Yeah, whatever. I should check the timer."

He goes back inside, and Jake knows it hasn't even been ten minutes, so he takes the hint and follows him in. Charlie checks the time - sure enough, they have 43 minutes - and walks into the dining room to get a chair.

"What are you doing?" Jake laughs.

"I'm not letting this timer go off," Charlie says. "I'm taking this cake very seriously, and I'm taking Pasta's beauty sleep even more seriously."

"Like he really needs it," Jake says. He gets his own chair and joins him, and they sit in the kitchen talking and watching the timer until the cake is ready for the next step.

In the few seconds before the timer is supposed to go off, Charlie turns it off and opens the oven. He sprinkles some mozzarella on top of the cake, puts it back in, sets the timer again, and gets back in his chair.

"More waiting?" Jake pouts. "I'm tired."

Charlie rolls his eyes. "We both know you'd never go to bed this early."

He's not wrong. Jake doesn't spend quite as much time playing video games as he used to, but there's always something to occupy his time. Sometimes it's video games, other times it's YouTube, often it's Netflix. The early hours of the morning are the best for getting fully absorbed in something, as he always does, since those are the only hours when no one will try to talk to him. It can be rough with early morning skates and practices, but taking a nap is literally part of his job, so he manages. Pasta, who usually goes to bed by 10:30 if he's not going out, thinks he's crazy, but it's what works for him.

"Fine," he says. "But I'm sure Pasta's going to keep us up all night tomorrow, so maybe I'm just tired in advance."

Charlie laughs, and as soon as the timer is about to go off, Charlie takes it out, and puts it in the refrigerator. It's not really late, but it's late enough for Charlie, and Jake decides to join him in going to bed. They've got a long day ahead of them, after all.

-

In hindsight, maybe putting the cake in the fridge wasn't the best idea.

Normally, Pasta would wake up a few hours before Jake, so it's a miracle he's even awake to hear Pasta's reaction from the bedroom, even if he can't see it. Charlie's already up, so Jake is glad he can at least see it. They should've known he would've opened the fridge in the morning like any sensible human being.

"What is this?" Pasta asks, and Jake thinks he's probably smiling. Hopefully.

Charlie's not much of a morning person, so Jake can't quite make out his mumbling, but he's pretty sure he hears the word "surprise" in there somewhere.

"A pasta cake?" He's definitely laughing now, and there's a pause. Jake imagines that they're doing something cute and romantic, like kissing. "Won't it make me a cannibal to eat?"

Jake laughs, and he can't hear Charlie's response because of that. Pasta's saying something else too now, so he decides to just get up and join the conversation, as much as it pains him to leave the comfort of their bed.

"Look who decided to join us!" Jake isn't sure what's brighter: Pasta's smile upon seeing him or the sun coming in through the window with no protection from the blinds he forgot to close last night.

"He saw the cake," Charlie says. Jake already knows this, of course, so he nods.

"You like it?"

"I love it," Pasta says. "Very nice, and it looks like you two actually cooked it right. I could never. So, thank you."

"You haven't even tried it yet, man, don't speak too soon," Jake grins. It earns him a half-hearted glare from Charlie.

"The cake is for dinner," Charlie reminds them. "I just told you that, Pasta."

"Hey, don't look at me," Pasta says. "His idea."

"I didn't even say to try it, I just said-"

"You implied it," Charlie counters, and Jake can't really argue with that.

He shrugs. "So maybe I did. It's fine, though; we can wait until dinner."

"Does that mean bacon and eggs for breakfast?" Pasta asks.

"Only if you're cooking," Jake says. "It may be your birthday, but nobody likes you when you're 23, so I guess you're out of luck."

Pasta laughs, and Jake is just glad he understood the reference. "The first thing Charlie said to me this morning was happy birthday, and here you are."

"Sounds like you need to find a better boyfriend," Charlie says, trying really hard to look serious.

Jake pretends to be offended, and they keep bickering. It's a pretty typical morning, really, but it's all in good fun. Eventually, Charlie caves and offers to cook the eggs and bacon, and finally they're off to morning skate.

-

The rest of the day leading up to dinner is pretty typical. Jake and Charlie take Pasta to one of his favorite seafood restaurants, and they have a nice walk on the waterfront before heading back to the apartment and meeting up with Pasta's mom. They hang out for a while, and finally, it's time for dinner - or, as Jake prefers to call it, Cake Time.

Despite Charlie's best effort at following the recipe, the spaghetti cake is dry. He insists that they followed the recipe exactly, and Jake backs up the claim even though he certainly doesn't actually remember and wouldn't have even noticed if they did mess something up, but Pasta's mom reassures them that the recipe may not have been very well-written.

"You can't trust Internet recipes," she says, and Charlie nods attentively like he's listening to a speech from Chara.

"I think it's fine," Pasta says.

"And you don't have taste," Charlie says. "We should've added more sauce or something."

Jake shrugs. "If the birthday boy likes it, it's good enough."

Really, he's more interested in the cake they're having for dessert. He likes pasta as much as any hockey player, and he loves Pasta, but he's always had quite the sweet tooth. Cakes with frosting are much more his style.

Maybe the coaching staff would discourage Jake from having two slices of Mrs. Pasta's cake so close to the Stanley Cup Finals, and maybe his own mother would discourage him from calling his boyfriend's mother "Mrs. Pasta", but a birthday is a birthday, and to Jake, a birthday is an excuse to do whatever makes you happy.

This cake is made of chocolate, not spaghetti, and it's decorated to resemble the Czech flag. Normally, Pasta would be home at this time of year, and it's only natural that he would miss it even as he chases his dream of winning the Cup. Jake's always loved how thoughtful Mrs. Pasta is - it explains where her son gets it, too. Naturally, the cake is delicious.

"I'm glad you're a much better cook than we are," Jake says to her.

"Yes, the cake is delicious," Charlie says. He looks pointedly at Jake before continuing. "But there's always room for improvement on our end."

"Maybe for you," Pasta says, nudging Charlie's shoulder. "Jake needs to be bribed with whipped cream to cook."

Jake grins. "Hey now, I'd be willing to try a recipe to make whipped cream."

"Great!" Mrs. Pasta says. "I'll send you my recipe!"

Jake would really prefer that she just make it for him, but he graciously accepts the offer anyway. Maybe it'll work. It probably won't, but at least that'll be an excuse to get her to make it next time she visits.

"So," Pasta begins once they've all finished their cake. "We going out now?"

"You know it!" Jake says. "The whole team is coming, bro."

"Is it going to be 'lit'?" Mrs. Pasta asks, and they all laugh.

The night does turn out to be, as Mrs. Pasta would say, lit. Between Pasta's birthday and the Stanley Cup Finals starting in two days, there's a lot to celebrate, and this is the last day they have before shit starts to get real. There's a big storm coming, but for now, they have the night to just enjoy each other's company and reflect on what they've achieved so far. 

"Great time for you to have a birthday," Jake says at one point. He knows it's not Pasta's choice, but the timing was convenient anyway.

"You know what I really want for my birthday?" Pasta says. "To eat cake out of the Stanley Cup." 

"Oh, hell yeah bro," Jake says. "That's my dream." He holds up a fist, and Pasta bumps it before pulling him into a hug.

"We're gonna do it," he says. He's speaking at a normal volume, but in the club, it sounds more like a whisper.

Charlie comes over and wraps his arms around both of them, then yells Pasta's words back at them, loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear.

"We're gonna do it!"

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's curious, the link to the recipe they used for the spaghetti cake is [here](https://www.mrfood.com/Pastas/Baked-Spaghetti%E2%80%93Cake). I can't verify whether it's actually dry as I haven't tried making it, but it does kinda look like it is. 
> 
> Feel free to come talk to and/or follow me on [tumblr](http://www.cjmasim.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated <3


End file.
